Chapter 46

Everyone made their way out of the Great Hall, an excitement heavy among them. Atlas was talking idly with a few Beauxbatons that passed, even the rare Durmstrang that wasn’t diligently running after Headmaster Karkaroff stopped to chat. All the while, she held Hermione’s hand tight in her own, it seemed the girl was adamant to get away but Atlas still wanted to talk to her, which is what led to the arrangement they were in now. Atlas nodded and smiled at yet another comment, a Durmstrang clapping her shoulder heavily in respect as he ran to catch up with his mates. She winced at the action but managed a smile through gritted teeth, immediately letting it go when he was out of eyeshot.

“Shit…” She grimaced, wheezing slightly. Hermione snapped out of her momentary strop and looked at her in concern, squeezing her hand to ask if she was ok. “I’m alright.”

“You sure?”

“Just the bite, don’t worry about it,” Atlas smiled, butting her head against Hermione’s. “Come on quickly, I need to ask you something–“

“World Holder!” Zasha pushed through her fellow Durmstrangs, popping up beside the two with a wide grin and a spring in her step. “There you are! I could see your head over the crowd, props of being tall, ‘ey?” she grinned and Atlas nodded, watching as Zasha slowly took notice of Hermione beside her. “Oh! Who are you?”

“Zash–“

“Bushy hair! Hermione, yes?” Zasha greeted, holding out her hand. Hermione took it slowly, her arm almost clicking out of its socket when Zasha shook it heartily. “You are the one! Viktor says you are–!”

“Zasha!” Atlas interrupted and looked at her friend with an exasperated smile. “Calm down, come on…uh,” she looked back at Hermione, “I’m gonna take her back to the ship. Are you okay with that?”

“What? Oh, yeah, go ahead,” Hermione nodded, with a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. Atlas regarded her a moment and went to speak, only, she realised Zasha was no longer by her side and was jogging down the empty corridor to their left toward the teachers quarters. 

“Godric, Zasha! What is she playing at!? Uh…Mi, I’m really sorry,” Atlas tried but Hermione only shook her head waving her off. She didn’t look at all as unaffected as she tried to present herself, however, as, like before, when Atlas had asked her about the bouillabaisse, she refused to make eye contact and instead looked down at herself with a distant sort of look. Atlas sighed and pinched her cheek, ruffling her hair as she took off after her troublesome friend.

Her troublesome friend that was acting more aloof than usual, which only meant one thing. Atlas came to the corner Zasha had disappeared around and came face to face with the blonde girl, finding her eyebrow cocked and shoulder up against the wall. She was faking it to garner Atlas’s attention.

“You sat with Fleur!” Zasha complained, Atlas rolled her eyes. Ever since they were younger, the two friends had a sort of rivalry between them. They’d met when Atlas went from Beauxbatons to Durmstrang, as Fleur had gone with her. A rivalry was sprung between them, regarding who was the better witch and apparently the more attention one got from Atlas, the stronger they were. Atlas had no idea how they’d come up with that deduction.

“Let’s get you back to the ship, Zash…” Atlas sighed.

“Delacour still thinks she’s a better witch than me.”

“You haven’t spoken yet.”

“I can still tell,” Zasha declared, crossing her arms as Atlas pushed her down the hallway. “So, your brother is Potter boy? You never told me that.”

“I didn’t know and he’s not my biological brother, nor is he half or step. We’re god siblings,” Atlas told, settling to walk beside her because Zasha had taken upon herself to graciously start walking, saving Atlas from the pain of pushing her all the way down to the Black Lake. How thoughtful.

“Oh! Oh! And the red-headed one, the boy! He is the brother of Ginny, yes?” Zasha grinned and Atlas nodded. “I should befriend him so he tells Ginny all about me!”

“Zash, you could just talk to Ginny. I told her you wanted to be her friend and she seemed open to the idea,” Atlas said and Zasha looked at her funnily a second before bursting out into a fit of laughter.

“No, World Holder! I do not wish to be her friend!” Zasha said and Atlas quirked a brow. “I wish to court the youngest red-headed!”

“You what?” Atlas laughed, the two of them coming to a stop in the entrance hall. “You want to–!” she glanced around and then moved forward, grabbing Zasha by the shoulders, “you want to date, Ginny?”

“Yes, she is attractive.”

“Zash, there’s more to dating than looks,” Atlas sighed with a smile, pinching her brows. “I mean, you’ve got to at least know her favourite colour, her hobbies, interests…plus, Ginny is a tough one to crack, I mean, she warmed up to me quickly but that’s because I was friends with Ron and she wants to join our Quidditch Team.”

“Ok, well, you tell me,” Zasha urged.

“No. You’ve got to ask her, you’ve got to make that effort, it shows how much you care. You seriously don’t want to get to know her?” Atlas asked, looking at Zasha with her brows furrowed and head cocked to the side. Zasha seemed to contemplate it, looking more serious than Atlas had ever seen her before she eventually nodded, looking resolute. “Good, then start by being her friend, Zash. Go into the friendship wanting friendship, nothing more.”

“But I do not want to stop at friendship.”

“But what if she does?” Atlas smiled, ruffling her friend’s hair. “What if…” she took her hand back and looked out into the courtyard. “You get to know her, you find out every little thing about her and vice versa, but in the end what if you’re the only one that’s fallen?” she shrugged and turned to look back at Zasha, the girl looking at her with a curious tilt. “You have to be able to accept they don’t want more because otherwise, you both come out of it hurt.”

“World Holder, do you perhaps, like someone?”

“…I don’t know,” Atlas said, offering Zasha the same response she had given Fleur. “But give what I said a thought. Ginny is awesome, it’ll be pretty hard to not want to be her friend. Maybe you’ll come out of it realising all you wanted was friendship and what you have right now is infatuation.”

“Perhaps…” Zasha nodded and then gave Atlas a hug, waving goodbye as she walked out into the courtyard. “Goodnight, World Holder! You have given me much to think about!”

“Night, Volkova,” Atlas smiled, waving in return. She watched her go a moment before stuffing her hands in her pockets and turning around, her destination being the Gryffindor Common rooms. She thought about the conversation as she climbed the stairs, scrunching up her face at certain sentences she remembered. 

So, Zasha had a little crush on Ginny, Atlas hadn’t actually thought it a possibility, after all, Zasha had always been enthusiastic to make friends so, naturally, Atlas simply thought that was all Zasha was looking for in the youngest Weasley. It was a true surprise. Now that Atlas thought about it, she didn’t even know if Ginny was into women. Should she ask her? Or would that be too weird? In actual fact, the only people she knew liked women were Katie and, of course, her girlfriend Leanne Nael. That was in her house anyway.

“Huh…” she huffed under her breath. All this time she had just been assuming because most witches and wizards were experimental, failing to take into account there were a fair few that weren’t. Zasha would be out of luck if Ginny wasn’t. Maybe she really should ask her and say it’s for a friend, which wasn’t a lie, she just wouldn’t say which friend, which was only omitting from the truth.

She finally came to the Fat Lady’s painting, uttering the password to the lady as she walked inside and stretched her arms above her head, a satisfying crack coming from her back but a stinging burn spreading from her shoulder. She put her arms down with a grimace and opened her eyes, finding the Common Room bustling with people, one of those being her dear old brother, Harry Potter, surprisingly, without a Ron Weasley by his side. She walked over to him and sat in the seat at his side.

Surprisingly, he didn’t look up and remained oblivious, staring into the fireplace with the dancing flames reflecting in his glasses. Atlas stared at him a moment before waving her hand in front of his face, drawing him from his thoughts and back to the real world. He blinked wildly before sitting up and looking toward Atlas curiously. 

“You alright, Potter?”

“Yeah, just wondering who our champion will be, I hope someone from Gryffindor enters,” He mused, playing with the ring Atlas had given him as a farewell gift the school year prior, idly. She noticed and smiled, ruffling his hair as she sat back in her seat and put her arms behind her head.

“My condolences to whoever is chosen,” She remarked with a smirk. “Rather them than me.”

“How come?”

“Harry, it might sound vain but I’m already famous, I could do without my name in the Daily Prophet just this once,” Atlas sighed and grabbed a stray blemishless bit of paper from the table in front of her, crumpling it up before tossing it into the firepit. “Would be the first year it happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I was in the paper when McGonagall adopted me, then the following years after because of Sirius, then because I had awoken my magic at a prodigal age, then again a few times up until the big news came out about me going to a court hearing. I didn’t show up at Hogwarts when I turned 11 which was apparently newsworthy and then finally, because Sirius broke out and people were trying to get a comment from me,” Atlas ranted and Harry went slightly wide-eyed.

“I haven’t had to deal with something like that.”

“Yeah well, my location is known to the whole wizarding world, plus, I’m the daughter of Sirius Black, many well…think I was made to be a weapon,” Atlas murmured and then laughed. “Hey, aren’t we a pair? You, the boy who defeated Lord Voldemort at the age of one and me, Lord Voldemort’s supposed could-have-been weapon.”

“You’re not a weapon Atlas,” Harry assured, hooking an arm around her shoulder and rustling her hair.

“I know, just people talk and I suspect my least favourite reporter will be doing the reporting for the Tournament,” Atlas sighed. “She just…somehow knows everything. Even things said in secret, I don’t know how she does it.”

“Who?”

“Rita Skeeter, she’s the worst-best reporter there is.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Harry grimaced.

“Seriously, do,” Atlas said and then looked around again, trying to spot even a drop of red in the heads of hair that remained around them. “So, where did Ron go? It’s not like you two to be apart down here.”

“He’s with his brothers, they’re coming up with a plan to trick the age line.”

“Oh, yeah, totally sounds like them,” Atlas grinned. “What are they doing?”

“Age potion.”

“Seriously?” She huffed and Harry nodded. “Idiots.”

“That’s what Hermione said,” Harry smiled. “Speaking of, she was in a right strop when she came back. When we asked where you were she just scowled and walked up to the girls’ dorms, and obviously, we can’t follow her so…where were you?”

“She was in a strop?” Atlas laughed with a disbelieving smile. “I was uh…with Zasha, relationship advice.”

“You were getting relationship advice?”

“I was giving relationship advice,” Harry made a face and Atlas grinned. “Don’t give me that look. I give the best relationship advice, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh, yeah, I believe you.”

“Anyway, Hermione was in a strop?”

Harry nodded, “Gave Seamus and Dean the nastiest stink eye I have ever seen when they were talking about the other schools.”

“Oh dear, how did they recover?” she asked with a smirk.

“I believe they were still shaking as they walked up to the boys’ dorms,” Harry recalled and Atlas laughed. “Though, Atlas, I think you should talk to her.”

“I know,” she agreed, simmering down to a nervous smile. 

“Not just because I think she’s gonna go on a rampage but because well, you know Ron, he can say some pretty tactless things–“

“What did he say?” Atlas interrupted.

“Just about that Fleur girl, he sort of…compared them and well…”

“Hermione got upset,” She sighed and Harry nodded. “Merlin, that boy does not know how to hold his tongue. Yeah, I’ll talk to her,” she stood up, brushing herself down. “Don’t stay up too late, alright?”

“Sure, mum,” Harry grinned, rolling his eyes jokingly.

“Night, weirdo.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Turning with a final wave, Atlas slipped through the crowd and climbed the stairs to her dorm, almost tripping as a ginger ball of fur swerved through the gap between her legs. Crookshanks pruned against the side of her calves and she smiled, rolling her eyes as she first knocked and then entered her room, letting Crookshanks run right past her. “Mi, you awake?” Atlas yawned, rubbing her eyes.

A light diminished from underneath a pile of sheets on Hermione’s bed and Atlas smiled curiously, walking quietly toward it with Crookshanks eyeing her from where he sat on her desk. Atlas raised her hands to a prime tickling position before pouncing and digging her fingers into Hermione’s sides. The girl shrieked out a laugh, throwing her pillow out in defence. Atlas got a full face of the cushion and tumbled backwards, landing on her behind with a loud laugh.

“Ouch, Mi!” she chuckled, holding at the side of her face with squinted eyes. Hermione pulled the covers from herself, revealing her in all her messy haired glory, her pyjama shirt halfway done and her necklace on full display, the quill grip hastily put back together. Atlas figured that was the glow she had seen upon walking in.

“What was that for!?” Hermione cried, hugging at her sides and blowing a hair from her face.

“I don’t know, I just felt like doing it,” Atlas grinned and then smiled softly, picking herself up with a light huff and moving over to the bed. Hermione inched backwards with drawn brows, watching Atlas suspiciously. “Smidge over.”

“What are you doing?”

“Questions, questions, always questions,” Atlas groaned, falling onto Hermione’s bed. The girl startled again and flicked Atlas’s ear, scoldingly. “Ouch! I told you to move over!”

“And I didn’t! Since when is that a further invitation!” Hermione chided, crossing her arms with a face of frustration. Atlas looked at her a moment before abiding by her wish and moving to sit on the floor beside her bed instead, drawing her knees to her chest and leaning her arms over them to fiddle with her nails.

“So…” She muttered, “sorry about ditching you to look after Zasha, she wanted to talk to me about something.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” Atlas sighed. “I can tell you were annoyed, or upset, or…just negatively feeling?” she said, scrunching her face up at her wording, Hermione smiled slightly and laid back down, turning so she was able to see the side of Atlas’s face. “And I heard…Ron said some things.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Hermione,” Atlas muttered shaking her head. “It does matter. Why do you insist on…ignoring your own insecurities, talking about them as if they don’t matter?”

“There are more important things to get upset about,” Hermione replied simply and Atlas turned her head, leaning her chin atop Hermione mattress and staring deeply into the girl’s eyes, searching, looking for something within them. “What?”

“I don’t understand you sometimes…” she murmured and Hermione reached forward, taking a lock of Atlas’s hair between her fingertips and twirling it idly. “You value yourself so little, you’re constantly trying to better yourself. You’re an overachiever yet you still think it’s not enough.”

“That’s a bad thing?”

“No, not all of the time but sometimes people who overachieve don’t stop and appreciate their efforts is all. It’s just odd.”

“Why?”

“Because…well, I already think you’re more than enough, I value you so highly and I already think you’re one of the brightest witches I’ve ever met, it’s just crazy to me that you think you’re not worth worrying over, or that maybe…you sometimes think you’re not good enough,” Atlas whispered and Hermione stopped playing with her hair, just staring at her silently, not a breath sounding between them. That was stopped abruptly as Atlas turned away, swallowing as her throat had gone quite dry, Hermione went back to toying with her hair soon after. “I also know…when I compliment you, you don’t think I’m being honest and that’s…not true.”

“Come on, Atlas, you can stop now–“

“No, Hermione, I’m being serious and until you get that in your…big beautiful brain I won’t stop saying it,” Atlas blurted and she would have spun around if Hermione playing with her hair wasn’t so satisfying. “Look, I know I mess around and I can be…playful and meaninglessly flirtatious with people, but believe me when I say you’re…stunning, Hermione, because I mean it and I don’t know what Ron said but frankly I don’t care because I know whatever brainless and ignorant comment he made wasn’t true at all.”

“It was true.”

“Hermione–“

“I’m serious, Atlas, everything he said was true. She is perfect, she has a perfect face, perfect hair, perfect eyes, a perfect nose, a perfect smile and those teeth! God, Atlas she has perfect skin, even the way she speaks is perfect! And Ron was comparing her with the girls here and I’m…sat there, just listening because she is perfect and I can’t refute him because I am me!”

“Mi…” Atlas breathed, feeling as Hermione stopped fiddling with her hair and withdrew her hand. She turned this time, with confusion and an almost hurt expression on her face, as if Hermione being so degrading of herself physically hurt her, “Come on, don’t say that, you’re…” she stopped, shuffled and stood, looking at Hermione as the girl covered her face. “Shuffle over.”

“Just go away, Atlas.”

“Come on, Mi,” she sighed and then smiled softly, brushing a piece of hair from Hermione’s forehead with a faint brush of her knuckles. “We can cuddle? How about it?”

“No.”

“Hermione,” Atlas whined, pushing Hermione over slightly and plopping onto her bed, making sure not to touch her but remaining close enough to feel the heat from her body.

“Get out,” Hermione grumbled. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”

“Why are you so bothered by Fleur?”

“Because…” Hermione faltered and then finally gave in, pulling her covers back to invite Atlas beneath them. Atlas accepted and scooted closer soundlessly, opening her arms in an almost questioning manner, Hermione didn’t say anything but moved forward also, allowing Atlas the ability to hook her arm around her. “You remember…last year when you asked me if I ever crushed on anyone?”

“Yeah, you said you liked Gilderoy Lockhart, right? Well, in a celebrity way.”

“Yeah, I did and now I — I realised over the summer…that I like someone. For real this time.”

“Oh, you do? Do I know him?” Atlas asked, puzzled by the way her throat grew dry and her heart, heavy.

“No but you do know her,” Hermione silently corrected and Atlas made a face of surprise, going unseen by Hermione who had her face buried in her chest. She absentmindedly drew circles on Hermione’s arm when she felt the air shift to one of nervousness, seeking to alleviate some of the anxiety Hermione felt. “An-and I was bothered by Fleur because…the person I like wouldn’t stop looking at her, smiling so excitedly, laughing so whole-heartedly.”

“Mione, Fleur is…quarter Veela, it’s no surprise the girl…you like was quite taken by her, everyone was,” Atlas tried, pushing through the rock that had formed in her throat. It seemed Hermione really liked this girl. Atlas should have been happy but instead, she couldn’t have been farther from it. She felt sort of sick. “Like, Ron, you saw how he reacted, didn’t you?”

“Yes but that’s Ron, I thought — I thought…”

“She would be different?” Atlas murmured and Hermione nodded. 

“And now I know she doesn’t like me back…”

“What? How?”

“Because of what you just said, Fleur is part Veela. People that are in love or harbour feelings for someone already aren’t affected by a Veela’s magic.”

“Well, that can’t be true.”

“Why not?” Hermione asked, looking slightly up at her as Atlas’s face slowly grew contemplative.

“Because Fleur’s charms don’t affect me and I…don’t…like–” Atlas looked down at Hermione, her face growing hot. “–anyone…”

Atlas had never been more grateful for the darkness.

“Atty?”

“Oh no.”